Adventures as a Clone
by chompmomp
Summary: Where Orochimaru had enough technology to create his own vessels, but accidentally cloned Obito instead of Madara. It's that black (and maybe polka dotted) sheep in the herd of reincarnation fics.
1. Chapter 1

**PROLOGUE**

Having settled that the paler figure seemed reliable enough, the masked man started, "Seeing that you're here, I assume my messenger has managed to pass on my intentions. Have you agreed to the proposition Orochimaru?"

They were both in the dark of the night, but the two shadowy figures stood poised and alert as they faced each other across a desolate clearing in the forest. What had supposed to have been a simple meeting on business terms soon elapsed into strained silence as each studied the other figure for indications of power as well as merit of trust - although judging by their capabilities, such an assessment was not so much as far fetched as it was necessary.

From the few streaks of moonlight that fell onto each person, it was clear by their outlines that both were men of equal stature, though one seemed a shade paler and perhaps even sicklier than the other. His yellow, snake-like eyes shone under the darkness with a certain fervent intensity. On the opposite side, the other one had obscured himself with a coat which collar had covered most of his profile, though strange, orange patterns of swirls could still be distinguished.

"No."

There was a short pause before the masked figure replied, "...What? Why- wait... Then why are you here?"

Orochimaru said, "My priorities don't lie in playing criminal ninja for a man with no background. Not to mention, one who claims to be someone who died over half a century ago." The snake's expression was indecipherable under the murky shadows of the night, though his eyes conveyed enough of what needed to be said. From two golden orbs that shone through the darkness, there was arrogance in the snake that seemed to hold a strange certainty over the situation. It was almost as if Orochimaru knew he could manipulate the circumstances to his advantage. Orochimaru's gaze was making the masked figure uneasy, but the negotiator convinced himself that he had encountered far stranger missing-nins on past recruiting missions. He needed to stay to get this over with.

The masked man processed Orochimaru's statement. The allusions to the Akatsuki and questions about his identity claims of being Madara were of no surprise, if not a little disappointing. Above anything, they had met for the same purpose, though the rest of the meeting wouldn't carry any differently as 'Madara' soon learned.

However, he was surprised at how Orochomaru was approaching the issue."...Well, if we're talking about criminality and escaping old age, the last person I would expect to harbor doubts about the organization and my claims-" The masked figure never finished the sentence before the snake hastily cut him off. He looked over as the man spoke and realized that the Sannin's yellow eyes were now piercing the darkness with an hungry intensity that only increased as the seconds went by.

"For your other question," the snake man resumed, so absorbed in his plans that he barely noticed his interruption, "Your claim would also entail being Madara, which might make me reconsider your offer if I believed it. So far I've seen nothing to change my view," There was a short pause before he continued, "That is, unless you have something to show for it...?"

The lingering question further reinforced the masked man's eerie notion that Orochimaru might not have come to simply discuss membership into the Akatsuki. As a cold gust of wind broke into the clearing, the 'Madara' felt a shiver run down his spine. Yet, it wasn't just the weather that was setting off almost every alarm bell in his head. He looked across the clearing and realized his guest was studying his every movement, as a snake would do to analyze its prey's actions, before pouncing in for the kill. The Sannin expected something from this meeting, and wouldn't likely leave until he got what he wanted.

The masked man thought it was perhaps best to back out of the situation right then. He could call off the meeting and run away from the snake man, who was quickly turning business into an interrogation without having said anything that anyone really needed. However, he had also been stuck at a standstill for ten months with the Akatsuki, which just reminded the masked figure just how desperately he needed the snake. Not only were they incredibly short on people, but unlike the other members, Orochimaru was likely the only guy they could recruit with medical knowledge and a head level enough to carry out missions exactly according to the demands. He was a year behind in his plans, and with the missions gone wrong and failed recruits...if he had to risk revealing a few of his playing cards so soon, well, he was desperate enough to give it a try.

The sky was faintly lit by the morning's presence. The sun hadn't risen, but already a bluish tinge was washing over portions of the starlit blackness above. He flared up the Mangekyou, confident the snake man would see his bloodline under the light, and vortexed closer to Orochimaru's end. However, the snake's grin only grow wider as he made an empty strike into the masked figure's head. "Hmm, pesky mask." Orochimaru said as he retracted his arm from the man's face, and asking almost to test any other abilities kept hidden, "Is that all you have?"

"It's enough, and we're out of time. Give me your answer."

The two were an arm's width apart so Orochimaru lifted his hand for a shake. "Your skills show that you are as good as what you claim, though I'm still not convinced," he said, "However, I'll give your organization a chance for your show. Let's shake our hands to this agreement."

Something was certainly off about Orochimaru's logic and sudden change in perception, and in hindsight, maybe the masked figure should have just listened to his instincts and left. Yet after months of work, running around, and research into Orochimaru's encrypted contact list so to arrange this meeting, he was just so _close_ to changing the Akatsuki and alleviating his stagnated plans. He already had Orochimaru's partial consent, and all he needed now was to play his words right. It would be worth it, the masked figure convinced himself. Thus, he asked the one thing that came to his mind, "What's hand shaking?"

"Something of a family tradition," Orochimaru replied, "It's a formality to commemorate an agreement and show trust. We do trust each other right?"

The meeting had never been arranged on the basis of trust, though done out of blind, desperate need was another matter altogether. The masked figure kept that to himself. Skeptical of Orochimaru's offered handshake but unwilling to reveal his hesitation with the situation delicate as it was, he gave his hand and shook.

The sun loomed behind a set of rocky mountains in the distance, and the risk of being discovered only grew as each speck of light entered into the clearing. However, the masked man was just glad the meeting was coming to an end. Of course, it did go a lot more smoothly than he had predicte- Ouch! He felt a small prick to his right hand. Alarmed, he broke the handshake.

He tensed his body for a possible attack, but the Sannin quickly explained, "Nothing but a small sample of your DNA to confirm your identity. With this our agreement is complete. I'll attend your meetings once I've verified your claims."

Suddenly, the snake sank into the ground and disappeared. For a while, nothing happened as the masked figure tried to process the sudden change in events. The forest was quiet except for the occasional rustling of the leaves. Then, a small chuckle broke through the silence and echoed between the trees.

Oh but that snake was something, the masked figure thought, too bad he didn't really get his genetic stuff. He supposed it was a good thing his right side was composed almost completely out of regenerative material because Orochimaru was going to have a hard and confusing time trying to make heads out of tails from the stolen sample - not that he'd ever find what he wanted. There was Senju DNA for what was most undeniably an Uchiha's sample. Of course, the thing was that his DNA would only be present in trace amounts, but he doubted it was sufficient to provide evidence of his true identity.

What really mattered was the guy had already committed himself to joining the Akatsuki, and there wasn't any way out of the deal without knowing if the masked man hadn't prepared in advance and used someone else' sample. That would be the most logical reasoning for the snake to take, so he had already tied Orochimaru down with the Akatsuki. All he needed to do then would be to act smug during the next few meetings to convince Orochimaru he had truly played a trick on the sample, or act smug when he visited Orochimaru if the man didn't come to the meetings. It was a fair deal as far as the masked figure was concerned, and he would use that claim to convince the other Akatsuki members to back him up if something went wrong.

With that "Madara" slipped into the forest as he headed to his hide out, with the prospect of a job well done still lingering in the back of his mind. He was finally getting somewhere with his plans and it seemed that little could go wrong from here.

However, the masked figure's assumption was actually somewhat inaccurate, and as he would later discover, he should have simply bolted when his instincts told him to run as fast as his two legs could have carried him.

* * *

Somewhere in another world, a person who had spent an entire childhood reading manga books soon found himself reincarnated, though he did not know it, into Orochimaru's and the presumed 'Madara"s world. When he realized he was stuck within the gestational, or the developing period as a baby, all he could do was wait impatiently until he could enter into the world again. And waited he did, and wait and wait, and... was that clinking he just heard?

* * *

AN: Story where orochimaru tries to clone Madara after his defection from the village, but doesn't understand when his prospective vessel is terrible at everything he does except being late. Also about the guy who got reincarnated into the younger "Madara" and has figured the situation out, or at least more than Orochimaru has.


	2. Chapter 2

Drip, drip, drip...

His mother's heartbeats resonated between the walls. He had been floating in the lukewarm liquid for about five months, or was the estimate after his mind had developed enough to understand. Then, after days - or weeks, he wasn't exactly sure which anymore - the fragmented images of his past began to coalesce and gradually, he discovered a picture of a life long forgotten, but slowly being remembered again. In some ways, the images were almost similar to old friends, once he found the concept of companionship within those memories, and provided company in the midst of this dark haven that he soon felt less and less a part of.

The moments of clarity came more frequently as he developed, though along with them, feelings of apprehension as well. The words 'reincarnation' and 'rebirth' surfaced more as he started to question this unchanging and banal predicament, which had greatly contrasted the variation found within those livelier memories. Unlike his past life, there was little certainty within the monotonous void, and much less hints of the identity he might soon take. Would he be born to an affluent family of politicians and lawyers, and live a privileged life after the successes of his family? Or, would he take the unassuming role of an average Joe, and grow up as an exemplary worker of the middle class? Then what if there was simply a life on welfare that waited outside of these walls...would he get taken by the foster homes to live under the caring embrace of strangers?

He could not know, though the uncertainty troubled him with an increasing urgency as the days passed. He had tried suppressing those doubts for peace of mind, but to no avail. Then one day, he realized that he might have lived in this cage for more than just six months when the earlier developing stages had been considered. He couldn't have been conscious to remember or count that time, but now he was too close to the outside world.

Drip, drip, drip...

Another month passed and he had recollected more of the past. The cartoons of his first childhood played within his mind, drawings he had created, and silly stories he had read all ran through his mind. He drifted back to sleep under the soft presence of his happier memories.

Drip, drip, drip...

Perhaps he could accept this new life. While he didn't have much of a choice, it was better to hope for the best than to live in continuous doubt. He wondered if birth would be an uncomfortable process. He hoped it wasn't. Another month had passed already, but now he was more prepared for the inevitable.

Soon, the ambiguity outside had started to seem much more appealing than his current existence. He tried falling back to sleep under the soft beatings of his mother's heart, but could not in his frequent restlessness. Had it been another two months of this monotony? At least let something happen! He started with a few pokes, then kicks, twists, flailing arms, and attempted spins. Before he knew it, he had become too tired to stay awake.

Again, he fell back to sleep under the constant dripping sounds that he now thought were a little odd to belong to a human's heart.

Drip, drip, drip...

...Clink!

What- wait, was that clinking?

* * *

"Orochimaru! Lord Orochimaru! One of the clones has shown signs of life!" yelled an enthusiastic Kabuto as he scampered across the labs, reports in one hand, with a trail of flying papers following his back as the current lifted them from the tables and settled the sheets onto misplaced heaps on the ground. By the time he had entered Orochimaru's lab room, the assistant was panting heavily with one hand clutching his forehead in disbelief. "To think, out of the hundreds of clones you've attempted to create using the Uchiha sample, one finally worked! And had I actually given up after the first ten... Can you imagine our luck?"

Orochimaru did his best to restrain the smile that was creeping into his face. After months of research to confirm Madara's identity before the meeting, the weeks of planning to prepare for the encounter, and the long, arduous hours of purifying Madara's limited sample from Hashirama's DNA - which hadn't been too hard considering he still had notes on the Mokuten experiments - he had finally created the perfect vessel to grow the Sharingan and use for the Sannin's goals.

To clarify, Orochimaru had known the man was truly Madara since before the meeting. While it was true that he had enough accounts of the man's use of forbidden and kage techniques to ensure the masked man was a legendary founder of the village, that brief display of skill with the Sharingan had only made the sample more valuable. He had once needed the elusive DNA to complete the clone, though that had long ceased to be an issue with what the Sannin took from the living owner. Now he had a working clone, and it seemed that his efforts had finally paid off.

Orochimaru took the offered lab reports. When he finished perusing Kabuto's documents, both men eagerly hurried to the incubation labs. Inside, they pushed away a few treys and carts that held various beakers and assorted petri dishes. Some clinked against each other and the sound echoed between the walls.

The room had been darkened to simulate lighting during the gestational period, though seeing that the clone was alive and would be approaching the age of one after normal birth, Orochimaru decided it no longer needed the incubational precautions. If nothing else, the new lab reports now indicated the importance of creating a normal environment for the clone that would be mirror a normal one year old's. It was no use to keep the clone in incubation. Thus, Kabuto disappeared into the switch room and flicked on the lights.

* * *

When the clinking stopped momentarily, he recounted the months since he gained awareness and realized he was already overdue for delivery. Then the clinking appeared again, and this time in greater frequency. He was scared.

From the memories, he remembered that it wasn't healthy for a baby to be born too far past the due time; there were complications for both the child and mother in the long run. So were the doctors inducing his birth? Was that where the clinking came from? The fluid wobbled around him. The clinking echoed outside.

Without a doubt, he would be getting out. They must be in a hospital. Soon, he would be surrounded by a group of doctors and medical assistants, and he might even see his mother for the first time!

He was excited, but as great as it seemed, he knew he'd still have to go through the dreaded process first. He braced himself and waited.

Wait...

Give it time...

Maybe...

...

What, nothing?

The clinking had stopped and the liquid was no longer wobbling. There was only silence and nothing else.

He was lost. Was it just a false hope? He had stayed in this cage and counted ten months, and this was what happened? Nothing? Absolutely nothing? At least let something happe—

Sudden explosions of bright lights erupted everywhere_. What's going on?_ He couldn't see. What happened? This wasn't birth! Did he die again? No, it can't be. Where was everything? How? What? Why? When?

No, no. Here, here, give a minute...

There's something yes, he thought. It's...it's grey? He could only see so much. His arms reached out to touch it. Maybe it was the doctor. Did they do a C-section? Was it that likely? It didn't seem or feel like it...

"Get the report forms, Kabuto. The clone's more responsive than we had thought."

Kabuto? Was that the name of the nurse? The name sounded familiar. Did it come from his memories? If only he could see past this blinding whiteness.

Kabuto.. he thought about ninjas. Why was he thinking about ninjas? Kabuto...and the grey doctor. They might be ninjas. How did he know this? Was he living in the past?

The cartoons of his past flashed through his mind. Then, a doubtful realization started forming at the edges of his mind.

For a brief moment, he remembered that world.

Then he remembered the grey doctor's words.

He was...a _clone_?!

* * *

The papers fell onto the floor in a broken mess. Orochimaru stared blankly at the fallen work that needed to be sent to the Akatsuki. Membership into the Akatsuki had taken a greater toll on his time than Orochimaru had anticipated. The research took much too long, and now he was late for the Kabuto's progress summaries on the clone, again.

While the Sannin had originally intended to oversee the clone's development, it seemed that there was little choice but entrust the clone into Kabuto's care. Such a shame, he thought, that when the results finally came after three years of waiting, all he could manage would be a few training sessions with the clone, and one or two experiments.

He'd have to rely heavily on Kabuto to raise the clone - though Orochimaru had personally never intended to do the raising in the first place - and also supervise the clone's skill growth in his place.

He sighed as he placed the papers back and studied the documents on the wooden table. The bits of information he had gathered for the Akatsuki laid sprawled across the flat surface, and Orochimaru could only fathom the extra work he'd have to carry as the sole intelligence member. No wonder all the other recruits had declined.

The Sannin looked back at the clock in the corner of his work room. If he kept sulking, he'd be late for the Akatsuki meeting as well. Orochimaru left a note for Kabuto to explain his absence.

Donning the Akatsuki's collared coat, he neatly placed the files into an envelope. He took one last glance at the documents to ensure accuracy, and headed toward the meeting place.

* * *

**AN**: I was going to make this chapter longer by cramming in more events, but then it started to get a little disjointed. However, it's an earlier update than what I had planned for, so it's good news depending on which half of the cup looks better. We all like water, right?

Also, thanks **Frozenlights** for the courtesy of letting me adopt the profile update and review format, and thanks for the story advice!


	3. Chapter 3

A cluster of cacophonous noises crashed into the disorganized lab room. Kabuto sighed; his new assignment was wailing again, and from the looks of things, he would soon need another bottle of formula along with a diaper change for the clone. The indefinite babysitter pushed out his lab stool and made his way to the small playpen. It had only been six weeks since Orochimaru had taken the experiment out of the incubator, and already most of the assistant's initial anticipation had worn off. Due to the dependent clone, his number of delayed experiments was starting to equate to the amount of lost reports that Orochimaru kept forgetting to read, which were growing to sizes that neither was willing to admit to, much less count.

He stopped at the edge of the playpen and peered over. The experiment stared at the assistant with arms outstretched, so Kabuto pulled out the clone and rested the baby's head against his shoulder. He gave the experiment quick back pats. Abruptly, mini-Madara stopped crying.

Yet as Kabuto laid the clone back into the pen to sit, for a brief second, he thought the experiment seemed much older than his age. With the one year old's limited facial muscles, the clone had almost cocked an eyebrow as he stared impassively back at Kabuto; the experiment wanted affirmation as his babysitter's equal. The assistant paused, but then supposed that great arrogance likely came with great power and potential.

While the scientist was unwillingly accountable for the experiment's well-being, he was only required to tolerate the demanding clone for the sake of the experiment. With that direction, Kabuto flashed an ambiguous smile at the baby, which surprisingly only unnerved the clone even more. The assistant waited patiently. He watched curiously as the baby tried to morph his facial features to convey irritation and indignation. Then, the experiment tried lifting the other eyebrow before his chubby cheeks started twitching under the effort.

The clone's cheek twitched one last time. Suddenly, the baby went limp and fell backwards in exhaustion.

Kabuto heard the soft thump of the clone's back against the fabric of the playpen. Soon, the breaths of the clone had become rhythmic. After that meaningless display, the baby had just... fainted.

Kabuto studied mini Madara's frail figure in silence, albeit somewhat incredulously. Was this how Madara had started off? Well, this was... His eyes landed on the empty progress forms to be filled, and sighed. This was unexpected, but the change in behaviour also warranted more paperwork. He wasn't looking forward to that.

At that reminder, Kabuto glanced back at the sleeping baby and almost envied the clone's carefree status. Unlike Kabuto, the experiment was free of all responsibilities, and also had someone to take care of him. It must be nice to be the clone.

Well then again, perhaps not.

There was also a flaw to that logic as well. Kabuto soon realized that mini Madara was just a clone, and was simply being kept alive to use as Orochimaru's next vessel, it wasn't as if the clone had a sustainable identity to begin with, and the baby certainly wasn't allowed to develop one due to his eventual purpose. After all, if vessels had identities, they would fight for their worth until their last breaths, and Orochimaru had encountered that problem far too many times to count. Kabuto wondered what it would be like for the clone when the baby had developed enough self-awareness to realize he had taken a stolen identity, and then discovering that he could never claim his right of existence.

However, the assistant knew the answer. In fact, did Kabuto know his own purpose?

Sure, he held high standing as Orochimaru's personal assistant, but he still wasn't sure what he was working for. He once had an allegiance to that orphanage, then Root, but... well, he couldn't go back to what no longer exist. Now, he could care less about Orochimaru, for the Sannin had only recruited the scientist as a henchman to further his own plans. So was he working for himself? For what means?

He looked back at the clone, and realized that maybe they weren't so different after all.

* * *

With a steady flick, Kabuto's kunai sliced through the air and hit the mark. _Thunk. _He listened attentively after the sound rung through the compound. A lonely silence reigned over the training room.

No one came. He threw another projectile and waited. The room went quiet again.

Kabuto sighed, then decided he had waited long enough. Just as he had done almost each morning for the past two years, he exited the room to search for the experiment.

The clone was late again.

oooooooooooo

Knowing fully well where he was going, the clone sneaked into the cell rooms. The five year old ran up a flight of stairs encrusted in concrete, though he almost lost his footing on the last step. Quickly, he dug his fingers into a small crevice between the cold, concrete slabs on the wall to regain his balance. His other arm swung in the air, and hovered above a long, angular set of steps he had almost landed on, and on the unfortunate days, had actually fallen upon.

During the seconds that he could spare, the clone added better balance to his wish list. However, he assumed that being incubated for an extra year after the normal gestational period had contributed to his lacking fine motor skills. Was he still bitter about it? Not as much, but the snake _had_ stuck him into a bland container for twenty whole months while he could have been rolling around and developing his physical abilities like a normal newborn could have done.

He turned the corner, and from a shoulder-strapped pouch he had stowed and hidden under his shirt, the clone fished out several fruits and slid them under the cell doors. He didn't know much about the societal norms in this universe, but from his days in the other world, he knew that leaving hungry people to starve simply went beyond moral unrighteousness and unethicality. He could currently care less about his own self-preservation as these people needed the help... although strangely, he hadn't been as willing to risk his own well-being in that past life. As he listened to the other experiments crunch through the small meal, he felt empathetic to their state. The clone wished he could help the prisoners more, then wondered if he should fetch more food. Why was he even asking that?

After securely tucking the pouch back under his shirt, with the prospect of finding more food, the clone descended upon the stairs with the storage room in mind. The clone realized he should find something else this time. Originally, the fruits had seemed like a brilliant idea for providing adequate nutrients and preventing dehydration, but from the encounter, the clone wondered if the few fruits would be enough. He should get the people more sources of protein and water, but what about inflammation from too much water? Maybe he could—

"I can sense you Nidara," an oddly calm Kabuto called out, "No point in hiding, but you're late for training again."

Shoot, he had run out of time. Back to training, but that last word only brought back more reminders of solitude and inadequacy. He couldn't throw a dart right even if - especially when - his life depended on it. His hands became sweaty just by thinking about the routines, and then the unforgettable progress reports.

Then again, why _did_ the clone care as much about training? All pointless! Just, no. So, maybe if he ran quickly enough, he could still escape from Kabuto.

Yeah... could he do it?

The clone's head whipped around and scanned the escape route. He quietly backtracked from the assistant, turned, and ran back to the cells.

The wobbly blur flew across the hallway. The clone was so close. He flew up the set of stairs until his foot almost reached the last step.

Then it didn't.

He tried to grab something. His hand slid across the concrete slabs. He could reach that crack. Yes, yes...just _so_ close!

Then his arm caught under the hidden pouch strap.

So what? He could still move. Just make sure his hand reached that crevice.

Oh.

... a_nnnd_ he's falling.

oooooooooooo

He studied the metal dart that rested in his right hand, then the target at the far end of the cold room, then back at his other hand now bandaged for the sprain, and then at Kabuto.

"You're not supposed to make an injured person work." The clone commented. He looked back to the throwing range and squinted at the tiny red circle on the distant post. He wished Kabuto would give him an easier target after falling down the stairs. The clone knew he still couldn't hit that post.

"You haven't damaged your dominant hand," Kabuto said, "Get back to training." Seeing that the assistant wasn't relenting any more than he had on the past few sessions despite the clone's injury, Nidara grudgingly steadied into the launching position.

With his hips twisted and arms positioned into the correct posture, the clone aimed the heavy dart at the post. It hit a wooden obstacle instead. He drew another dart, which scraped the post, but flew past it. The clone tried again. This time, he had hit the post, but the dart bounced and fell without the required momentum.

He wanted a break. The clone briefly glanced at the report forms, then at the snake's assistant. For all Kabuto knew for the past four years, the clone was merely a child and there was no reason to let a kid have his way.

However, the clone still felt like an adult stuck inside a child's body and wanted the deserved respect. He just wished Kabuto would see him differently for once, but who was he kidding? The assistant had a more important job to supervise, and there was no room for credibility as the experiment's subject. He was just a cloned experiment named Nidara, who during the four years out of the incubator had realized he was the second of something — namely and quite likely a certain famous Uchiha.

Plus, coupled with the snake's body transfer technique, it didn't take long to realize that he hadn't been created out of the snake's whim. So he never had a long lifespan after all. He looked at Kabuto again, who was currently jotting notes on the report forms. No, the assistant really wasn't alleviating his situation either.

(However, the clone supposed his circumstances had at least gotten somewhat more tolerable after Kabuto stopped back patting him like a baby. Not by much, but still; they were making small increments of improvement somewhere.)

The clone threw another dart. It lodged into the wrong post. He wasn't getting anywhere.

He sighed, "Hey Kabuto, where's the purpose in this?" At the assistant's skeptical gaze, he elaborated, "No, well if I run, you'd just find me again. I mean, what am I working so hard for? I doubt you'd ever put me on the field with that precious collection of progress reports under your arm. Got too many secrets and hours of research in me to waste, right?"

Suddenly, Kabuto paused his writing. The pen remained still in the assistant's hand and patiently, the assistant raised his head to meet the clone's eyes.

The clone stared back expectantly. Had his witty remark evoked some sort of emotion within the snake's assistant? Maybe he could finally show he was a human being for once, and not just some subjective experiment to be studied.

However, Kabuto thought for a while and only asked, "Do you know what a clone is?"

The assistant had never talked about the topic, and there would be another page full of progress reports if the clone answered candidly. Yet, the boat had long sailed in terms of physical prowess, and he wondered what Orochimaru would do when his experiment proved too useless to keep alive.

For the sake of survival, it wouldn't hurt to show his worth in intelligence. The clone responded, "Yeah, it's when you make a genetic copy of someone. You need DNA and a functioning egg, and then maybe a good old incubator to patch up your work. Then wait a few years, and something should happen."

He waited for Kabuto's expression of shock, but only a brief moment of confusion appeared before it was replaced by an expression of... glad acceptance, almost as if Kabuto had believed it was normal for a child to understand the clone's knowledge. The clone had expected anything, but that.

Then, Kabuto asked another question, "Do you know that you're a clone?"

"Yeah." _Might as well get to the point._

The assistant stopped, then seemed to accept the clone's knowledge, again. He resumed, "So how is it to know you're living under a stolen identity?"

The clone thought about that, and noticed something else. Had Kabuto actually asked him a question as an equal? He refocused his gaze and replied eagerly, " I never had a choice in this, but I try not to think about the future... It's easier to live that way." The clone responded in his most honest and mature tone. He hoped it was enough.

The assistant paused, then continued, "So you don't plan on building a new identity from the one you took? Do you know who you are?"

The clone remained silent. That, he had no clue how to respond.

However, did it matter? In a few years, the clone he would either be eliminated or get occupied by Orochimaru's soul, so he was gone either way. Was he bitter about the incubation still? Actually, not half as much. What truly bothered him was that while he didn't want to die, he didn't want the conflicting identity either, and even less the looming deadline that hovered over his head.

The clone started becoming irritated at himself, but still kept track of his newfound opportunity. He replied, "Hey, life's just too short for that comfort anyway." Realizing that Kabuto's expression hadn't changed, he elaborated further, "Maybe it's sometimes best to focus on the small things in life. I mean, it's pointless to always seek control because it's just impossible, right?" He stopped and let his words sink in. The clone studied Kabuto's expression carefully.

Then, realizing that the scientist's expression hadn't changed in the slightest bit, the clone hurriedly turned away. So false hope again. While he had more respect for Kabuto now, if the assistant was going to predictably write the conversation into the progress reports - as he always did - the clone didn't want to see it. Kabuto had never neglected his duties before, and he doubted the assistant would change now.

Hurriedly, the clone went back to target practice. One miss, two misses, one hit, wrong post, three misses...

oooooooooooo

Kabuto set down his pen and watched the clone throw the kunai. He had missed again. The second page of the progress reports still laid empty despite the short exchange with the clone. For once, Madara's clone had lived up to the predicted intelligence, but...that conversation had meant something. He could write the progress down, but didn't specifically.

However, if he let the disappointing reports continue, though the clone likely didn't know it, Orochimaru would inevitably end the experiment, and that didn't help the child. He crumpled the previous report, took out a new page, and thought of something else to write:

_Small improvement in physical training._

* * *

He saw the tag too late. The wooden log splintered explosively beside him after he tilted his body to evade the incoming object. The clone shielded his head and neck with both arms. Instantly, the blast pushed him away and he felt the wooden shards lodge into his unprotected skin.

The disoriented clone stood back up, then collapsed sideways as his foot slipped. Lying on the ground, he braced himself for the next routine.

It didn't come. "That's enough, Nidara," the snake ordered, " You can't fight in that state either way."

Shoot. He was supposed to impress the snake. He tried crawling back up, both hands pressed against the grainy floor, and pushed. The embedded splinter shards weren't helping, and soon the clone let himself collapse onto his sore back. The clone looked towards the snake, who in relativity was standing upside down with the world. He argued, "I can still finish the routine. One break's enough. Just- just give me more time." He studied the snake's expression, but discovered the answer long before the reply came. He tore his eyes away and focused on the trap covered ceiling instead.

"That aim's not acceptable in real-life combat situations," the snake explained, " You had every opportunity to strike the largest target, but instead, managed to hit one of the few traps we had."

The clone couldn't argue against that. However, after six years of training, the clone knew he had improved somewhere. For one, he could hit farther posts, and was getting more skilled at dodging Kabuto's attacks. There was always the next time, so he offered, "I've improved lots more this year. In time, I'll be able to hit as accurately as any other ninja."

Yet he heard no reply, and the training room was oddly quiet. The clone looked to the snake and found only empty air.

The snake had long left. So training was out of the question then.

Just as the clone had done many times before, he contemplated about escaping the snake's lair. Past the sheer impracticality of winning against Kabuto in a fight, he wondered what life would be like outside. He wouldn't survive long in the wilderness, and even less when, or if he ever awakened his bloodline. He wondered how many people knew of the famous Uchiha eyes, and how many would be willing to steal it. In the end, he still couldn't leave the snake.

Well at least the clone could look forward to Orochimaru's genetic experiments to prove his usefulness. After all, it was the only alternative that remained. If those didn't work next week... then perhaps it was simply better to not think about.

Maybe he could arrive late to the lab for the experiment. Then, the clone could delay the snake and the snake's assistants plans for just a bit longer, not that he would ever gain anything from the scientists' work or their genetic experiments. He could also use that extra time to help the other experiments. He just needed to bring more fruits and peanuts, and if that black mouse ran across the stairway, he'd just go the other way. It would take longer to help, and even longer to get to the lab table, but so what if he was late...

Strangely, that sounded all too familiar. Had someone said those same things from his memories? The longer the clone thought about it, the more he remembered.

Yes, there was that silver haired guy in the story, who was always late. He had given a bunch of excuses and...black cats. Was that it? No, there was a Uchiha in there too. Obito wasn't it? What a goof! He kept being late because he... liked a girl? No, he...helped people. Yeah, that's it. What a great guy. Didn't he pretend to be Madara too? Funny how he suddenly remembered these things. Good memories.

Reliving the better times of his past again, or possibly the only sources of refuge that granted him a level of mental and emotional stability, the clone lied on the ground for a while longer. Those had been the happier times...

Then reality crashed back to him. The pain in his arms grew stronger and sharper. Shoot, he needed to fix his injuries!

For a few seconds the clone wished Madara's regenerative abilities had passed down to the genetic copy. However, like many times in the past, it never did, so the clone braved for the worst. The clone searched for a disinfectant bottle for his cuts, but there were a lot of them.

He wasn't going to like the cleanup.

Nope, nada. Ouch!

* * *

**AN:** Hopefully the characters seemed realistic enough, and the clone wasn't too angsty to sound overly moody without good reason. Or too unappreciative.

Maybe he's likeable, or is that too much?

(Put in a few layers of the moral conflict, and a bit of symbolism, for fun...)

**Sonyat, S.R. 457, Frozenlights **Thanks! Glad you liked the story, and thanks for the encouragement!

**White Tiger of Onyx Star** Thanks for the constructive criticism! Your points made writing this chapter a lot easier. Glad you enjoyed it!


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